


Mock Battle

by Jinryuu



Series: Scars of the Star [2]
Category: Mabinogi (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, LORE prompts - Birthdays, but there was actually plot, continuing from the last chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 05:57:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21094529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinryuu/pseuds/Jinryuu
Summary: Continuing after the events of 'Remnant', Baltane and its new Captain go up against a formidable foe...





	Mock Battle

**Author's Note:**

> This is part 2 of a series! If you're new, please go to the first part 'Remnant' and start from there, as there will be recurring plot points.

Mock battles in Avalon involved a variety of weapons. The participants were allowed free access to the armory, and Talvish had seen nearly everything in it used in combat.

However, he had never seen people sparring with long sticks of bread. That was a first.

Upon seeing him, the two knights of Arthuan dropped their improvised weapons and saluted. He nodded and made a gesture for them to move along - it wouldn’t do for the Milletian to see the salute. She might be the new captain of Baltane, but the Alban Knights didn’t quite see her as one of their own yet, and there were secrets that needed to be kept.

As he made his way across the courtyard, he passed several other knights from Arthuan, part of the older generation from before Avelin became captain. One of them also had a stick of bread, but seemed much less enthusiastic about it. They were discussing something in low tones, but saluted him just the same. They also had little pink sacks with them, which only meant one thing: it had to be her doing.

The Milletian had summoned a familiar on the platform where the squire Logan usually stood. It looked like a miniature restaurant on wheels: there was a cheerful green-and-white striped roof overhead, with plates and glasses laid out on wing tables down the sides. He’d seen it before, however, and knew it was in fact a living thing, even if the Milletian treated it as a bizarre mix between portable oven, well, and shop. As he watched, the plates on one side all jumped into the air as the thing gave a shudder, as if in excitement.

**“Haagenbazs- come! Sit! Good boy!”**

So the Milletian was over there, probably hidden behind its massive bulk. Actually, the platforms were a hub of activity. There were many people milling about - Avelin was in conversation with one of her knights, and Altam and Logan were stacking trays a few steps away. Llywelyn was by himself on the other side of the platform, studying a clipboard. Always easiest to start with the lone target.

**“Llywelyn. Is the mock battle over already?”**

**“Hello, Talvish. You’ve just missed it,”** he frowned at his clipboard and scratched something out. **“...that’s fifty… no, fifty-one? And this is…” **

Laid out on the table beside him were rows of little pink sacks, tied shut with a yellow ribbon. A tiny star hung from each; there must have been two dozen bundles. And there was another table like this one on the opposite platform.

**“Well, who won? And what is all this about?”**

Llywelyn shrugged his shoulders. **“These are biscuits the Milletian made for everyone. They’re supposed to give you a small boost in strength and willpower for a short time. And Arthuan won, of course, there was never any doubt… but during the battle, Baltane managed to - oh, here she comes. I’ll let their captain explain.”**

He looked up to see the Milletian, bearing a large covered tray. The steam made the light around her slightly hazy, as if seen through a glass.

**“It really is you! I didn’t expect you to come.”**

The tray appeared quite heavy - she made as if to put it down, but Llywelyn shook his head.

**“Sorry, but you’ll make me lose count. There’s still some room on the other table.”**

**“Okay, then - Talvish, if you don’t mind, I’ll just put this down over there.”**

She had turned away before he could offer to help her with the tray, so instead he followed her to the other platform. As an elf, she was light on her feet and walked quickly - had she been wearing this same ensemble for the mock battle? Surely not; it offered no protection whatsoever. The long puffy sleeves would only get in the way. The same could be said for the little apron, the stockings, and the heels with bows on them, while the skirt barely reached past her thighs. Why, if she bent over, you could -

He caught that thought and silenced it. It was foolish.

The Milletian was a foreigner to Erinn as well as immortal. When you took that point into consideration, it was not so strange that she would wear… impractical clothing to a battle. Milletians in general had unusual tastes in fashion. Since they were resurrected on death and impervious to most illnesses, they seemed to wear the flashiest things they could find.

All the same, he wished she would at least put on armor. Immortal or not, it was better to avoid getting hurt in the first place. That was why he wore plate, like the rest of the knights; although the captains had to make do with what precious little they could salvage from the early suits of divine armor. The original suits were wrought by a master, and infused with erg - a process which died with Kaelic. Standard armor, worn by knights in the present day, did not enhance their crusader abilities.

The second table had room for the tray, but only just. He hurried past her and swept several rows together, making a small pile of pink bags. The Milletian let out a small chuffing sound of laughter.

**“Now you’ve done it. I don’t think Llywelyn’s counted these yet - he’s going to get mad at you for messing up his system. But... thank you.”**

She carefully lifted the tray onto the table - the faint thump confirmed it really _was_ heavy - then wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. If she’d baked all these in one afternoon she really must be tired; instead, she smiled at him.

**“I thought you must be busy. It’s just a mock battle between Baltane and Arthuan, after all - nothing to do with Elved. Did you have another reason for coming here?”**

**“I had some things to ask Avelin.”** A bald faced lie.

He really had been busy all day, but… he couldn’t tell her the real reason he was here now. It was ridiculous.

As commander, he received notices for everything to do with the Alban Knights: training schedules, provisions, the procurement of weapons and armor, prayers to Aton Cimeni, patrol assignments, discussion of tactics and strategy, and the education of the squires. Elved Unit was under his direct supervision, but they had learned to fend for themselves in the face of more pressing issues that he had to deal with.

This morning, he had received a notice regarding the mock battle - under a round and sticky sweet bun.

The bread had been carefully wrapped, but the notice had stuck to it anyway because it was still warm. He spent several minutes peeling the paper off, cursing Shuan. At least the glaze hadn’t rubbed off onto the paper, although it now smelled strongly of cinnamon. Or what he assumed was cinnamon.

On the back of the notice were two lines in a neat, precise hand:

_ The Milletian wants to ask you something. Come visit if convenient; if inconvenient, come anyway. _

He had finished a large amount of work in record time, but the Milletian had been surprised to see him - meaning, she had not asked Shuan to get in touch.

He felt a flicker of irritation. Did his spymaster just set him up with a bread bun?

If so, then he was mistaken in his assumptions - greatly mistaken. It was true that over the years, Lughnasadh had gathered a great deal of information on the Milletian; but it was strictly out of professional necessity. As the Savior of Erinn, the Milletian’s actions often caused a ripple effect throughout the land, and it was important to figure out how each situation could be steered in the right direction. Neither the church nor the kingdom held much influence over the Milletian; she lived by her own standards. Such a volatile person needed watching.

It was a necessity. Nothing more.

**“Actually… I wanted to ask you for a favor.”**

At first he wasn’t sure if he’d heard her correctly. For one thing, the Milletian was looking down at her feet; she’d also twisted her hands in her apron, lifting it several inches. She seemed completely unaware of it.

**“A favor? What is this about?”**

_ Please, let go of your skirt. _

**“I wanted to - ”** She suddenly stopped and looked past him, her expression frozen with panic; and then she was gone, sprinting back to the first platform.

**“Altam! Don’t put in that much butter!”**

Avelin shook her head as the Milletian flew past her; he could guess at what she was thinking. The knights had a busy schedule and didn’t get much free time, but when they did Altam would tend to his small plot of herbs, or bake something. He would use an entire week’s butter ration in one go; Avelin allowed it because he churned the butter himself, and always made enough to stock their provisions. However, she refused to eat anything he’d made. The Milletian didn’t know about that yet - but she would learn.

Wait a moment. The tray had been forgotten on the table - the Milletian was busy trying to fix the disastrous amount of butter Altam had put in the cookies, and that might take awhile. He could bring the tray over for her.

_ But before that, since no one is watching… _

Carefully, he lifted the cover off the tray. Around the edges were biscuits shaped like stars - they had baked to a golden brown, and looked small enough to carry around without crumbling. But in the center was…

He heard footsteps approaching, and clapped the cover back down with a clang before turning around. But it wasn’t the Milletian at all. Avelin was looking at him with suspicion. **“Sneaking cookies, are we? Since when did you have a sweet tooth?”**

**“I don’t. I was simply curious, and everything else has been sorted and put in bags. Do I get one, or is it only for Arthuan?”**

She raised an eyebrow. **“You missed the mock battle.”**

**“So I heard. Llywelyn was about to tell me how it went, but he was distracted.”**

She made a tutting noise. **“I guess I’m the one with the news, then. Arthuan won, but Baltane did much better than we expected. Three of mine had some cuts and scrapes afterward.”**

**“The squires did that? Impressive. Which three are we talking about? Eirlys is one of them, I’m assuming?”**

Avelin nodded. **“Yes, Eirlys. Kaour. And… Kanna.”**

She never showed Kanna any preferential treatment, but Talvish heard the warmth in her voice as she spoke her sister’s name. It was a rare moment. Avelin kept everyone at a professional distance from the time she joined the Knights, after her brother Mairon was killed by the Prophets. 

**“I have to admit, I was suspicious of the Milletian at first. Altam just wouldn’t** **_shut up_** **about her, even after I put that jar in your office. And everything she’s achieved… it seems unreal. That sort of power shouldn’t belong to a single person, even if she is blessed by the gods. It's hard for me to feel truly comfortable around someone like that.”**

Talvish kept his expression carefully neutral. Avelin sighed.

**“Maybe ** ** _I_ ** ** should have a jar. I’ve put up with Altam’s prattle for so long, it’s starting to affect me too."**

Back in safe territory. He managed a smile at that.

**“Shuan would like that. The Milletian keeps the squires busy - the results speak for themselves, of course, but the budget can only go so far."**

Avelin tossed her head. **“At the very least, my sister hasn’t broken anything new. She’s a lot less clumsy now, and her speed and reflexes have improved greatly. The Milletian’s teaching methods are… unorthodox, but they certainly helped her."**

She gave a little cough. **“Altam isn’t the only one who’s been talking nonstop about the Milletian. Kanna idolizes her; she was even willing to team up with Eirlys for the last mission. They’ll never be close friends, but there weren’t any major incidents this time, and they cleared the area quickly."**

Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen any of the squires aside from Logan. **“Where is Kanna, by the way?"**

Avelin turned and pointed at the grassy field outside Avalon Gate, and there was pride in her voice.

**“Teaching."**

\---

The Baltane squires really had improved. Each was surrounded by a small group of Arthuan squires, watching as they demonstrated the moves their captain had taught them. Several of them were descended from a long line of knights: Kaour looked exactly like his father had at that age, except for the eyes. Eirlys strongly resembled her mother, but the blonde hair was from her father’s side of the family.

Then there was Kanna. Her long pink hair flew in the wind as she went through a stop-thrust for the other squires. The three siblings shared the same hair and brown eyes as their grandmother, the first knight in their lineage. Agatha had been captain of Arthuan in her time, and named her favorite grandchild after Avalon, but her son eventually asked to be released from his duties. The risk, he said, was just too high, especially for a man with a growing family. When his children grew up however, Mairon, Avelin, and Kanna joined the Knights of their own free will.

The winds rose with a howl, but he forced himself not to shiver. The setting sun painted everything in shades of orange and red; it was like standing in a field of blood.

The life of a knight was difficult. They’d lost so many people over the years, but it was the only life he knew. It was all he was - for him, there was nothing else.

There was a momentary lull in the wind, and he caught the faint scent of cinnamon.

The Milletian carried a much smaller tray this time. There were six bundles on it - they were also pink, but larger and more lumpy than the ones received by Arthuan. Instead of stars, the ties had been threaded through folded cards with the squires’ names on them.

The squires didn’t need her to call them - they spotted their captain straight away and descended on her, chattering excitedly. Talvish was surprised to see Kaour tear open the sack the moment he received it; he’d never have thought that such a stoic boy loved sweets. Beside him, Elsie sifted through hers with an expression of total concentration. The bag was full of different types of candy, but she eventually fished out what looked like a very large strawberry.

**“Captain, how come we don’t get bread swords?"**

**“Those are for the ones who fought the hardest, Dai… but if you aim your swings a little better next time, I’ll make you a baguette."**

**“Is that what it’s called, a baguette? Can you put jelly in it, and sprinkles on top?"**

**“Ugh, too sweet.”** Eirlys tossed her hair with a look of disdain. **“You have the tastes of a child, Dai. You’re almost as bad as Elsie with the chocolate strawberries."**

**“As if! Just because ** ** _you_ ** ** put cheese on everything instead of jelly, doesn’t make you more grown up than I am."**

The Milletian clapped her hands. **“Now everybody, you’ve had your fun. I’ll give you half a day's rest tomorrow, if you go and help Logan with the cleanup. I’ll give a bread sword - I mean, a baguette - to whoever puts in the most work, since we have one left over."**

The squires raced off toward the gate - sprinting instead of marching, Dai in the lead with Elsie a close second. Talvish shook his head, but he couldn’t hold back a smile.

**“You're bribing them with food - is this the secret to your success? I wish I’d thought of that."**

_ Although, that won't work for everyone, _ he thought. _ Especially the more senior Knights. You'll have to earn their trust, over time. _

The Milletian dusted off the tray, looking satisfied. **“It only works if they really, ** ** _really_ ** ** like the food. The cook doesn’t quite agree with my suggestions, but since I brought the Flying Food Truck and my own ingredients, he can’t argue. The squires work hard enough to burn it all off."**

It was getting dark. The bonfires at the edge of the bridge were spelled to light themselves at sundown, and the runes were still deeply etched into the metal; they burst into flame as they were supposed to. The wind had dropped off, and it was quiet except for the crackle of flames.

**“You mentioned wanting a favor, earlier."**

**“Yes.”** The Milletian seemed calmer now - perhaps she’d had time to think about what she wanted to say. **“I wanted to ask you if I could train my Judgement Blade on assignments with Elved, for a while… instead of Arthuan."**

Avelin had told him the Milletian was having difficulty with the Smiting aspect of the crusader skills, but he hadn’t expected this. **“Is there a reason why?”** Was Avelin giving her a hard time? She seemed warmer towards the Milletian earlier, but maybe there was something else that he hadn’t noticed.

**“It’s… well.”** The Milletian held the tray to her chest, and looked conflicted. **“Actually, it's because of Altam."**

How unexpected. He’d put her with Arthuan _ because _ of Altam - he’d assumed that as her fan, the young knight would be the most patient with her, and help her adjust to her new duties as an Alban Knight. Maybe he’d misjudged the situation.

She moved closer to the fire, as if she felt cold. It cast a flickering light on her face, and turned the pink eye patch white. **“Altam… is too nice. He has such a high opinion of me that it makes me uncomfortable; I might be captain of Baltane now, but I’m still a new recruit. And I feel like it makes more trouble for Avelin, if he’s always distracted.”** She blushed and held the tray up to her chin. **“But I can’t tell Avelin that! It sounds like I’m full of myself, and I really don’t want to offend her."**

_ Ah. _ He nodded, then asked, **“Why me?”** She looked confused, and he hastened to add: **“Why Elved, and not Eiler or Heruin?"**

She lowered the tray. **“You’d be honest with me - you’d tell me if I’m making a mistake. Pihne is too kind, and Caswyn avoids talking if he can help it. And since the final decision would be up to the commander, I thought you would be the most likely to convince him, if it came to that.”** She gave a start. **“Or... is the commander a she? I’m sorry - I haven’t heard much about them, so I assumed…”** she trailed off, looking embarrassed.

_ Honest. Not the word I’d use, but… _

**“Oh, that reminds me… hang on.”**

She summoned a giant bear; the same one that knocked Altam into the stream in Tir Chonaill. Altam hadn’t explained _ why _ the Milletian’s pet had attacked him, but he’d come back to Avalon Gate soaking wet. She bent and felt for something, and when she faced him the tray was gone and she was holding a small red pouch. More Milletian magic - he would have to ask her how it worked, some other time.

**“I’m not asking you to do this for free. I made something… but I didn’t expect you’d be here today, so it turned out a bit rushed.”** She said this last part extremely fast, then held it out with both hands.

He took it and smiled. **“Thank you. I’ll put in a word with the commander… but only if you answer one question."**

She looked wary at this, but slowly nodded.

**“Why did you do this? The captains do take part in the mock battles, but it’s just part of training - there’s really no reward in it. Why did you go so far as to bake something for everyone?"**

Clearly she hadn’t expected this question. She glanced around as if looking for a way out, but he waited patiently for her to respond. It was his price for the favor.

**“It’s my birthday, you see. Alban Elved."**

Her birthday; one of the missing pieces of information in the Lughnasadh file. He’d pointed it out to Shuan, but as far as they could tell, the Milletian did not celebrate her birthday. She lived alone except for her familiars, and her activities did not vary much from day to day, aside from trips into the dungeons or the Shadow Realm.

**“Oh, so it’s today. Is there a reason you don’t tell people about it?”**

She brushed a lock of hair behind one ear - something she often did without thinking, when she was trying to come up with an answer. **“Is there a reason I ** ** _should_ ** ** tell people about it? When you’ve lived for so long, it stops being important, and I just... I’m sorry, that came out wrong. Everyone is busy with their own lives, and telling them it’s my birthday just feels like I’m butting into that. Does that make sense?”**

_ Yes, it does. _

**“What about you, Talvish? When is your birthday?”**

Of course she’d throw the question right back at him. **“I don’t really celebrate mine, either. It hasn’t been a priority.” **He paused. It was supposed to be a secret, and Avelin would be furious, but…

**“Since it’s your birthday, why don’t you talk to the commander yourself? You can see him right now.”**

She gave him a long look. There was nobody else on the bridge to hear them - if she asked the right question, he would give her an honest answer.

**"How can I just ask that of someone I've never even met? I already answered your question, so you should keep up your end of the deal. Unless you want me to take that bribe back."** She held her hand out for it, but he lifted it up and held it behind him, just beyond her reach. Even in the heels the top of her head was just about the level of his chin, and as she brushed against him he picked up another scent, something sweet that he couldn't identify.

**“So it ** ** _is_ ** ** a bribe. Thanks, but I’ll keep it.”** He tucked the red pouch through his belt. **“Alright. I’ll talk to the commander for you.”**

She sniffed in irritation and punched him lightly in the stomach - not enough to hurt, not when he was wearing armor - and spun on her heel. **“I’m going back inside. You can be ** ** _so_ ** ** annoying, sometimes.”**

He smiled as he watched her go; her hair streamed out behind her, silver under the moonlight. When she was gone, he moved closer to the fire and carefully opened the pouch.

Earlier when he took a peek under the lid of the tray, he had seen a biscuit in the shape of the Elved crest. But that was only the base of the cookie, and this one was the finished result. She had recreated the crest in colored chocolate, and the little scythes looked like they had been drawn in icing. He tilted it toward the light, admiring the details. The frosting had smudged a little on one side, but everything else was perfect. There was just one major difference.

The skull that marked Elved’s aspect of Judgement was smiling.

Kaelic had made a face when they created the first units of the Knights, and said he had no subtlety for names. But was it such a bad thing to name the units after festival days? Why _ not _?

Alban Elved, the festival of the autumnal equinox… and also his birthday.

He hadn’t received any presents in a very long time. The last celebration he could remember had been in his childhood with Tagar and Kaelic - Tagar had made the cake herself, so it had been flat and on the dry side. Kaelic’s contribution had been a single tallow candle, all they could afford back then. He had stopped celebrating his birthday long before they founded the Knights - every day had been a struggle just to survive, until they reached Avalon’s sanctum: the wellspring of life on Erinn.

He examined the cookie again. How were you supposed to eat something like this - start with the head of the snake, or just bite in? It was almost a shame to eat it, but it wouldn’t last forever... and the Milletian would probably want to know what he thought of the taste. Carefully, he took a small bite out of one end.

With all the icing on it he was expecting something sweet, but the Milletian had used dark chocolate - the flavor at its core was surprisingly intense, almost bitter. There were familiar smells here: hints of wood smoke, coffee, and a touch of liquor. But there were also lighter notes woven throughout - oranges, which made him think of summer and sunshine.

He had closed his eyes to savor the flavors, and when he opened them he looked at the cookie in a new light. 

_ … Is this how she sees me? _

Maybe the Milletian was not as naive as she looked. It was possible that she'd sensed the degree of separation between her and the older Knights, and realized that she would never be able to overcome that while she was in the same group as Altam. Perhaps this was her attempt to win their respect, by working towards mastery of the crusaders' skills.

After all, she had been living for a very long time. He smiled, and took another bite.

_ Happy Birthday, Milletian. _

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wanted to punch him, but I should have aimed higher. -w-
> 
> Today (Oct. 20) is my birthday. I ended up delaying a bit to finish all the illustrations - which are getting to be A Regular Thing with my fanfic. Giving myself more work is great! Who needs a social life, anyway...
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the fluff, which is about as sweet as I can make it. Brace yourselves because the next one is actually quite heavy material.


End file.
